Bad Romance
by droppedmysonic
Summary: After the war, friendships have disintegrated. Chad and Orihime are the only two who speak, since Ishida's too drunk to remember his name and Kurosaki has found himself a new family... Ichigo and Uryuu, MAYBE Chad and Orihime.
1. I don't wanna be friends

Lady Gaga songs make for FABULOUS fanfiction. I figured it was high time I took Bad Romance, the pinnacle of her career so far, and made it into a lovely story. I tried to write this to about seven different remixes and realized that most of them suck except the "Dark Intensity" one. Sigh. For those of you who are bad at getting things, the point of this is that each character is caught in a "bad romance" of some sort.

This takes place after the war. Since this is fanfiction, shit got changed. I assume. I actually haven't read past the war other than fanfiction, so I have only the vaguest idea of what has happened. Here's the current state of everyone's powers: Chad still has his, for the most part, but he's lost a lot of strength. Orihime has lost hers completely. So has Ishida. Ichigo has lost Zangetsu and he hasn't heard from the Hollow since then. And what they're doing is soon to be seen. Let's say they're all 19, but considering that Chad always seemed the most mature to me, we'll say he's a bit older and is 21. The Mexican school system is about two years behind most other school systems, so it works if we assume he actually started his schooling in Mexico, which is what I'm doing. Yes, these guys are kind of OOC. Sorry 'bout that.

* * *

It had been years since either Chad or Orihime had seen Ishida or Kurosaki – they _were_ Ishida and Kurosaki now, since the last time each had been seen, they had been cruel and vicious. The war had turned them bitter. The two were strong in the way stone was strong – completely immutable until the pressure shattered it. Chad and Orihime were different, always coming back from every hardship without breaking, even if they were a bit worse for the wear. They had even survived the savage things Ishida and Kurosaki had said as they had left; they left independent of each other, though the words they used were nearly identical. Unable to take the blame each imagined they deserved, they blamed Chad and Orihime, and being the way the two were, neither really minded. Orihime cried, Chad placed a hand on her shoulder, and a soulless shell walked away. It didn't really matter which face was attached to it. And then Orihime would dry her tears, Chad would hug her, and they would write for hours, Orihime lyrics and Chad the music, and they would bring it in the next day to the rest of their band Kaidan, who applauded the way Orihime could write about such horrible things despite being a squeamish girl, and the haunting, almost otherworldly melodies Chad developed. And no one ever knew except the two of them. Their music was slowly becoming fairly popular in Karakura, and it was a source of slightly bitter amusement between the two that the people who had forgotten what had happened to them were the ones who identified most with it. The soul never forgets, even if the mind is forced to.

Ishida was sure no one knew where he was. He had changed his name, not that anyone used it where he went, and had fled far from Karakura. The only time he heard "Yurei" was when his equally drunk roommate wanted his attention, usually to tell him where the night's party was. Drinking copious amounts of alcohol and eagerly partaking of any drug offered to him drowned the sense of shattered pride he held – whenever he remembered how awfully he had failed to protect everyone, he simply got as high as he could. Sometimes he had the vague notion that maybe this was a really stupid idea, but he waved it away with a half-empty beer bottle every time. He didn't even really get hungover any more. He would wake up in a strange place, look at whatever leftovers happened to be there with him, and stumble out of the house, apartment, or alleyway, even, and puzzle his way home. He didn't even remember how that part had started, the sex. He just had a vague sense of at one point being propositioned by one of the party-goers that frequented the scene, and being too drunk to care. He was always too drunk or high to care. He'd woken up, felt a vague sense of awkwardness at the fact that he'd lost his virginity to a man whose name he'd never remember, no matter how many times he saw him, and walked out.

Kurosaki, to the rest of the "ninkyo dantai" he was usually found with, was known as Ikari for good reason. Only his frightening anger had saved the remainder of his fingers from the family's only older sister who had taken the first one for drunkenness. The woman, Ryuko, had admired the sheer strength of Kurosaki's rage and had given him the new name Ikari, offering him a position as her lieutenant. Kurosaki had turned it down as memories of the 13 Court Guard Squads crept into his memory, and instead asked for the most brutal, bloody job that the woman could devise. Returning soaked in blood but not much worse for the wear, Kurosaki slowly began to ascend the ranks of Yakuza easily, though without the actual rank, for he refused any official title that could remind him of being a Shinigami. He was more or less Ryuko's equal in treatment, and though he still called her nee-san, she often let him get away with murder. Literally. The Oyabun himself had even offered him sake once, and with the greatest politeness he had ever shown anyone, he refused, explaining his aversion to being considered strong. He was a mindless, savage beast to be pointed at the Oyabun's enemy, not honored as the Oyabun's family. Laughing sardonically, he had said that if the bowl were placed on the floor, he would consent to lap out of it like a dog. The Oyabun thought about it momentarily and placed the bowl on the floor, where Kurosaki did exactly as he said he would. The morning after that, Ryuko had showed up at Kurosaki's door and tossed a leather spiked collar into his hands. "I don't know exactly what happened between you and our esteemed Otou-san last night, but he sends this with his compliments." She grinned at him, spun on the heel of her black stilettos she was so fond of, and hopped into the sleek black sports car she drove. "He wants you to... clear out... one of his clubs tonight. Another family has been trying to move into his neighborhood, and he doesn't like it. He also mentions that you feel free to have as much fun as you want. He's taking a liking to you, esteemed family dog. Don't let him down." The car squealed away as Kurosaki smiled a predatory smile and put the collar on with no small amount of pride.

Of course, as luck would have it, that very club was being played by Kaidan, and Ishida's next party was there. Funny how these things happen. Yet, Kurosaki never noticed the presence of the three people he wanted to avoid most. And they did not notice him. Ishida was too far gone, tripped out on some new designer drug, and Orihime and Chad were lost in playing their most popular song. Ironically enough, it was more or less about losing Kurosaki and Ishida. With the analytical eyes of a predator hawk seeking its prey, Kurosaki picked every rival member out of the crowd and quickly slaughtered each one. No one noticed the blood coating the dance floor or the dead eyes that watched the dancers' feet move as Orihime let out the guttural scream that had made their songs so popular. The sheer amount of pain conveyed in that animal noise was unmistakable. The cheers went up from the crowd as her tears mingled with sweat and she laughed with sick desperation. The masses were cheering her pain. Ishida might have left his glasses home for all he could see of his surroundings. Whatever it was he had swallowed, it was not kind to his eyesight, but rather pleasant to his brain. A funny spinning flatness enveloped him and he giggled with amusement as someone prodded his face down, prone body. Kurosaki shook his head at the blissed out, unrecognizable twit he'd just poked and wandered deeper into the club, looking for the higher-ups that were almost certainly here, dealing cards or drugs. He found them quickly enough, and left with the same easy lope he'd used after shearing clean through a weak Hollow's mask, and his mind never made the comparison.

Ishida woke up in the middle of a crime scene as a cold hand wrapped around his wrist to check his pulse. He jumped up in panic. His mind still spun but he remembered a fairly good amount of the night before, more than he usually did. He apologized bluntly for his passing out, then looked around at the dead bodies mangled accidentally by feet unaware of their actions and blinked in disbelief. The policeman who'd started to take his pulse looked at him with a disdainful kind of pity and took him aside, looking around furtively. "If you don't say anything about this, I'll sneak you out of here. I've seen the crap you're on. You probably can't remember your own name at this point and you'd be a waste of time to interrogate." Ishida frowned, trying to remember his name, and with a dry chuckle, had to admit that it had been a long time since he'd bothered to try and couldn't. The cop, with a shake of his head, pulled him towards a side door and pushed him out of it. Ishida stood up as best he could and stumbled towards a direction that he assumed was home. The sun stabbed at a place at the base of his skull and just behind his eyes as his cracked voice laughed the entire way. He wondered if this emptiness was anything like being a Hollow, and didn't care about wondering about that, eventually deciding that meant he must be a living Hollow. Unable to find keys, he crawled in through a broken ground floor window of his dingy apartment. He got a sick pleasure out of deciding he was a Hollow and figured at least this way he'd have a connection to the life he lost, and it occurred to him that if he killed himself, he would become a real Hollow. It was too early to think about that, though, and as he curled up under a soiled, unwashed bedsheet in a bedroom as dark as a cave, he felt himself drop into unconsciousness again.

* * *

AN Part 2: Okay, I'm tired of writing for today so this is where I'm stopping it for now. I haven't decided whether or not Chad and Orihime are gonna get together, and but I know I'm going to orchestrate some kind of fucked up love story between Ishida and Kurosaki at some point. If you have any ideas or suggestions you want to share, feel free. =]


	2. I want your revenge

AN: I don't know if you can tell, but I can – the chapters with Ichigo are my favorite to write so far. Which brings me to this; I apologize for using an OC, but she's necessary. Don't worry, though: she won't be in the sequel. =DDD

The interesting thing about this fic is that it actually takes place over the course of about 2-3 days. The timeline is a little messy, sorry, but please keep it in mind that this is only a few days.

* * *

They sat side by side on the type of grungy hotel bed that everyone in Kaidan had become so used to, watching the drunken revelry around them. Try as their band mates might, they could never convince Chad and Orihime to join them – they almost always refused and never drank enough to end up so much as tipsy when they accepted. They knew how loose tongues could be when inebriated. Chad and Orihime did not want to speak ever again of what had happened, of what had been lost. They were tempted to give in, to party and look for answers at the bottom of the bottle – but they knew that no answers were to be found there. Where the answers were, they didn't know... But they knew where they weren't. Lost, but not alone, they stared hopelessly, cluelessly at each other, wondering how to begin putting one foot in front of the other again.

Kurosaki basked in the praise given him by Ryuko. She seemed as excited as he was that the Oyabun was pleased with him. "He feels it really made a _statement_, you know, the way you just left the bodies there to be mangled... and there's really very little evidence at all to trace you. I mean, not that the cops care enough about a bunch of thug Yakuza to really make an inquiry. In fact, they're pretty happy to be rid of them. You've got talent, kid, and I don't know where that killer instinct comes from, but you got it in spades. In fact," the woman said, pulling out a small cardboard box, "the Oyabun agrees. You killed 37 people last night and that is a very impressive count for a single night. He's suggested that maybe you start keeping count too, and to save you the trouble of breaking into the morgue, he sends these with the compliments of the local cops." Kurosaki took the box curiously, prying it open. Inside were a collection of teeth. Human teeth, splattered with blood, torn out, roots and all. Something deep inside him recoiled from the sight, but everything else felt rather pleased to see a reminder of the carnage. He raised his head from the gory mess, asked Ryuko what she thought he should do with these. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, and looked down at her own neck, weighted down with chains that held the piercings she had torn out of her own still shrieking victims. She'd been the sort of assassin Kurosaki was for a while, but found that serving the Oyabun directly was much more entertaining. She took the box from him momentarily, returning no more than ten minutes later with the teeth, cleaned up somewhat, strung on a fine chain she had not had opportunity to use before retiring as an enforcer. "You like?" she asked. Kurosaki wordlessly took it from her and hung it around his neck just below the collar the Oyabun had given him.

Chads fingers gently strummed the strings of his bass as he scribbled notes into a ratty notebook beside him. "I really liked that chord just now," Orihime murmured. "Keep that one." Chad nodded and jotted it down. "Do you-" Orihime started. "Do you ever stand up there and think, you know, that the crowd... is dead? That we're playing to zombies that want us to bare our souls for their pleasure? And that our band mates know and don't care? That you and I are commodities to be bought and sold?" Chad was silent. Orihime sighed. "Never mind. Maybe I'm overthinking things..."

Chad looked at her, opened his mouth, and said the longest string of words he'd said since Ishida had left, two days before Kurosaki fled. "No, you're right. They're down there watching us scream and they love it. We're crying on the inside and they're laughing. Buying CDs and jumping up and down like an Arrancar ripping out someone's heart is something to party about. It's sick."

Kurosaki wasn't a fan of the next assignment, but dogs are trained to follow orders. "He's worse than the last one, Ikari. He's brutal and has no honor whatsoever. He kills anything that displeases him, even innocent civilians – you know how our honored father looks down on killing sheep." Kurosaki nodded his head, accepting the piece of paper from Ryuko. He opened it, memorizing the location at which he could currently find the headquarters of the rival family, and then set the paper on fire. "Flare for the dramatic, eh?" Ryuko teased. Kurosaki watched her head towards the door of his cheap but livable house.

"Maybe."

"Scare him good, Ikari. You shouldn't kill anyone if it's not necessary – father wants this one to learn the meaning of mercy. But make him believe that next time, his teeth will be joining your collection."

Ishida woke up, tiredly throwing off the stained sheet that he'd slept beneath, trying to work the pains out of his limbs. He managed to ascertain that he was in his own apartment and that his hangover was more or less nonexistent now. And then he remembered his revelation earlier that he must be a Hollow now, and laughed at his own stupidity. But the suicide part... That part might be smarter than it sounded. He reasoned that the way he'd been carrying on could, by no means, be mistaken for _living_, so what would be the difference if he died? And he probably would be a Hollow. He liked the idea, as much as he hated to admit it. He wondered the easiest way to go. He wouldn't be missed. People dropped out of his group of "friends" all the time – arrested, shacked up, knocked up, rehab, dead... He could tell them he was planning to end it all and they would help him, even. A twinge of regret shot through him at that, realizing that no one cared enough to want to stop him. If he hadn't run away – he stopped that train of thought before it reached its destination. It was pointless to try now. He could go on existing like _this_ or he could die. The problem was there were so many ways to die.

The black Maserati Ryuko drove idled in the garage downstairs as Kurosaki leaned easily over the corpulent man's desk. "You see, there's this guy, and, you know, he's not a fan of your work. So he figures, 'hey, I'll let my guard dog out in the yard. Maybe he's a little rabid and vicious, and he's gonna snap his teeth when this guy passes the fence, and maybe the guy will realize, you know that any minute, I could accidentally leave the gate open.' So this guy lets his dog out in the yard. Whatever do you think happens next?" Kurosaki fell back into the chair behind him, regarding the man over steepled fingers. He was sweating and trying not to show it. He twirled a pen.

"I think this guy just keeps walking," said the other man.. "He just walks right past the dog, knowing it's all bark and no bite and keeps doing what he does."

Kurosaki jumped onto the desk, squatting on it, lips curled back in a snarl. "Sure about that?" he asked, leaning forward enough for the gruesome necklace he wore to fall out of his shirt. "This dog's got a lot of... teeth," he snickered. The man gulped.

A sudden quiet noise came from the corner. A woman sat there, glasses perched on her face, pen in hand. Kurosaki assumed rightly that this was one of the idiot's accountants. "You wanna say something, bitch?" he snapped, pointing at her. She winced, lowering her head. Dark hair framed her face and she pushed up her glasses with one finger. Her mannerisms reminded him so much of someone he'd tried to forget that he froze. A slight sound came from him as he hopped off the desk, walking over to her.

"Please," she mumbled. "Don't hurt me." He grabbed her hair, yanking her head up to look at him. As he thought, she looked nothing like that person and he backhanded her violently. She fell to the floor. Kurosaki turned around to stare in the rival Oyabun's eyes.

"Remember me," he said. "I'll be in town if you don't clean up your act. You don't want me to clean it up for you."

He left quickly, riding the elevator down to the basement garage where Ryuko was waiting. "You need to get your own damn car, kid. This is pissing me off, chauffeuring you everywhere."

"You know you love me, nee-san," he said as the car screeched out of the garage into the dark, starless city night.

She regarded him with black, emotionless eyes. "You're right," she admitted, ruffling his hair with one hand.

The way she looked at him, her name, her blunt way of speaking kind of reminded him of a certain black-robed woman he once knew, and he sighed. This night was far too long. It was shaken up by the sudden, bone-jarring halt of the car nearly threw him into the windshield. Luckily, he and Ryuko wore seat belts for some weird reason. Force of habit, probably. "What the-" he yelled.

"Almost ran someone over. Might have," Ryuko stated matter-of-factly. She put the car in park, took the keys out, and unfolded her thin legs from the low car, levering herself out of it. "Looks like we've got a winner. Wonder if he's dead," she laughed. "I shouldn't be laughing. Poor guy might have been a good dude."

Kurosaki easily pulled himself out of the car after her and walked around to check the body in front of the car. Checking the pulse at the neck and finding a faint one, he flipped the body over distastefully and felt his entire nervous system go into shock. He turned away from the sight of the pale face covered in blood from crashing into the pavement, the dark, stringy hair that looked nothing like it used to, the scratched glasses that looked like they'd been through hell but still hung on stubbornly.

Ryuko, hanging over the hood of her car, watched Kurosaki's face. "Seen him around somewhere, Ikari?"

"You could say that. Let's go."

"Is he dead? You gonna leave him there? He looks pretty fucked up."

Kurosaki fixed her with a cold, heartless stare. "I cut ties to these people a long time ago. He means nothing anymore." He climbed back into the car. "Let's go."

Ryuko tapped a cigarette out of a pack she pulled from the back pocket of her miniskirt. Kurosaki sighed. She only smoked when she was about to do something stupid. "Help me with him," she said, lit cigarette dangling from her mouth as she started to drag the inert body towards the backseat.

"Wh-what?" spluttered Kurosaki. "You're kidding! What are you doing?"

"Taking him back to my apartment whether you like it or not, though I'd really be happy if you gave me a HAND here. Don't make me pull rank," she growled.

"This night really _is _too long," he groaned, getting out to help drag the last person he'd ever wanted to see again into the backseat of the car.

Chad and Orihime were completely nonplussed by the suggestion of their guitarist. "You guys have been acting real whack lately, so we figure maybe you should take a break for a few days. Go home, see your family," he shouted through the fuzzy influence of vodka. The drummer nodded his assent energetically, buzzed on wine. They shrugged, looking at each other.

"We wouldn't want you to fall apart. You won't drown the pain – you're, like, stronger than we are. You're gonna work through it, unlike us. We're gonna die like this. You guys are survivors. You been thinking real hard, we seen that. And you got some unfinished business at home. We remember that nasty shit that went down between you and those two assholes just before you guys decided it was time we go on tour. You ran away from them as much as we're running away from life now. You gotta go back there, face your past."

Orihime gently touched Chad's hand. He jumped at the sudden sensation. "I think, for once, they're right," she whispered hoarsely. "Strange how they're saying what we've been to afraid to admit." He nodded, standing up.

"Let's go. Urahara's?" Chad asked.

"Yeah," Orihime replied, wondering if she'd even be able to go through with it when the time came.

"Take the van," yelled the drummer. "We ain't goin' anywhere for a while."

* * *

AN 2: I'm so lazy! I get tired of writing things out so fast. I have the entire rest of the story plotted out, so this will get finished soon enough.

Part of it is also that I'm developing carpal tunnel and my wrists are hurting at the moment, so I guess that's actually a pretty good reason to stop, lol.


	3. I want your disease

AN: Someone pointed out to me that they were uncomfortable with Ichigo's characterization, which surprised me – I was more uncomfortable with Uryuu's. Well, for those of you who found Ichigo to be OOC, you'll find his behavior justified, or at least explained in this chapter. I feel that he makes sense now but that Uryuu is still a bit of a loose end, so I hope to wrap that up soon, too.

* * *

Morning broke. Ryuko hadn't slept – she rarely did – and Kurosaki shoved himself up off the floor since he and Ryuko had put Ishida on the couch last night. Despite himself, he asked her, "Is he all right?"

"He will be, though ten thousand yen says he'll be a total cunt when he wakes up," she chuckled. "_You _know how nasty a hangover can be, _Ikari_," she said, looking pointedly at the conspicuously missing pinky of Kurosaki's left hand. He looked at it with distaste.

"Aww, shut up. Why didn't you just leave him there, dammit?" he asked, sounding more like an obstinate child than anything else.

She sniffed. "I can do whatever I want. Besides, I-"

"Mmmmmf."

Ryuko nodded to the lump on her couch. "Sleeping Beauty's awake," she quipped.

"Am I dead yet?" It was a barely intelligible mumble, but the tone of voice was unmistakably desolate.

Ryuko laughed with pity. "Nope, but I bet you wish you were."

"You have no idea," he grumbled. He raised his head slowly and met hesitant eyes, eyes he hadn't seen in a very long time, eyes he had hoped he'd never see again. They'd hardened, sharpened, were almost unfamiliar now, but the hair was unmistakable.

He was surprised at his own ability to not react. _I must be more dead inside than I thought_, he said to himself. He took in the tattoos that covered the man in front of him, the intimidating collar, the downright horrifying necklace of teeth, and felt something deep inside him recoil. Not at what Kurosaki had become, but rather that his fashion sense had all but imploded. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, considering that at least the thug in front him looked as though he'd showered in the past week. Ishida couldn't remember the last time he'd showered.

The woman was almost as skinny as he himself was, though lean muscles showed outside her scant clothing. Her lack of sleep looked less like drug-induced insomnia and more like attentive, alert refusal to doze off. Her tattoos and piercings were much more numerous than Kurosaki's and Ishida assumed that she was probably of higher rank than his old rival.

Kurosaki was still trying to decide if he was hurt or relieved that Ishida hadn't acknowledged him. On one hand, being acknowledged would bring back painful memories, but if Ishida honestly couldn't remember him, that might hurt worse. Ryuko, with her usual lack of tact and a mouthful of food, said, "I thought you two knew each other?"

Ishida, trying to ignore both harsh countenances, denied it. "I've never seen him before in my life."

Kurosaki, suspecting Ishida was being a stubborn bastard, like he'd always bee, sniffed angrily. "He's a stranger to me, too," he spat.

Ryuko, reading the situation correctly, grinned. "Ooh, touchy little bitches, aren't you!" Both men bristled at her choice of words. "What's your name, crackhead?"

Ishida didn't respond.

"I asked you what your name is. You speak when you are spoken to," growled Ryuko, marching over and grabbing Ishida's face like a mother would a disobedient child. "What. Is. Your. Name."

Kurosaki knew he was being stubborn when he jerked his face away and mumbled, "People usually call me Yurei."

"You look like one," Ryuko scoffed.

"That's all that's left of me," Ishida said quietly.

Ryuko shook her head. "Poor bastard's more far gone than I thought. Should we take him out back and shoot him, Ikari?"

Kurosaki twitched when she made the suggestion, but Ishida spoke before Kurosaki could. "Please, do," he said, a desperation Kurosaki had never heard before tingeing his voice. Kurosaki lost it at that.

"You used to have so much fucking _pride_, 'Yurei'," he spat. "What the _fuck_ happened?!"

Ishida put a hand to his stomach and looked up at Kurosaki, momentarily silent. Kurosaki flinched visibly. "I lost a lot of shit in the past few years, 'Ikari'," he said, "and as for 'what the fuck happened', I could ask you the same thing. You used to be so adamant about protecting the weak..."

Kurosaki flushed with the vaguest hint of shame. "You're here, aren't you?" he muttered.

Ishida fell silent. Ryuko watched the scene from the sidelines, leaning against a wall, apple in one hand, chicken leg in the other. She gnawed disinterestedly on both."

"I want to die. I don't know why you bothered saving me. I feel..." he hesitated, glancing at Ryuko, choosing his words carefully. "I feel... _hollow._ I'm looking forward to dying," he said, hoping Kurosaki would get the message. He did. An irate Kurosaki gripped Ishida's throat, pulling him off the floor and throwing him into a wall angrily. He could barely speak with rage.

"How dare you. How dare you. After everything you worked for – how dare you resort to that, how DARE you want to be like that? You're-"

"Ikari, don't _eat_ him," interjected Ryuko. "He's awfully bony anyway. Probably wouldn't taste very good either."

Ishida, momentarily distracted, looked over at her, then back to Kurosaki, and what he saw in his formal rival's eyes made him gasp: a gaze tainted unnaturally with black venom. An inhuman shriek welled up in his throat. "That's not _fair_!" he wailed. "No! It's not fair! I lost everything. I fucking lost everything!"

Kurosaki laughed bitterly. "I was always a killer, 'Yurei'. Always will be. I've just come to terms with that fact recently."

The van puttered into place outside the old store they hadn't set eyes on in ages. It looked decrepit, dusty, dangerous to be in. Orihime wondered if Urahara was even there anymore.

A dark shadow emerged from around the door that hung off its hinges. Yoruichi looked much, much older somehow, and much more tired. "You've come back," she said. It was more of a question than a statement.

Orihime had lost the ability to speak. Chad spoke for them both. "We want to be our old selves again. And we want Ishida and Kurosaki back."

A glint of the old playfulness came into her eyes. "Really? Well. Then you'll want to talk to Kiyomi, won't you?" she handed Chad a slip of paper. "She's 100% brilliant and 500% insane, but she's much wiser than I'll ever be. If anyone could tell you how to get back to Pooh Corner, it's her. She's pretty good at poker, too."

Chad nodded, gunning the engine. It was all they were going to get out of her and he knew that neither he nor Orihime would be able to stare into that grinning face much longer.

Ryuko had left. Ishida and Kurosaki were left staring warily at each other like feral animals coming face to face in the alley.

Ishida, reasoning that he no longer _had _a worst case scenario other than living, was the first to speak. The old sardonic Ishida peeked through the eyes of the broken one as he antagonized Kurosaki. "A gang? _Really_, 'Ikari'? How many people have you killed, then? How many innocent, defenseless women, children-"

"_None_," hissed Kurosaki. "Not _one_ of those motherfuckers I killed didn't deserve it, wasn't a monster, didn't kill countless people who deserved to live much more than he did. I still have some kind of pride left, whether you do or not. I just choose to mete out justice in a way that society isn't exactly approving of. You? You've taken shit _way_ too far."

"At least I haven't murdered people," Ishida deadpanned.

Kurosaki laughed bitterly. "So that's what you think, huh? Sure about that? Did you _see _the look on Orihime's face when you told her it was her fault people died?" Ishida flinched, but Kurosaki didn't stop. "What your leaving did to Chad?" He looked away, hesitating. "What it did to me?" he asked softly.

Ishida had lost the will to fight and halfheartedly told Kurosaki, "Don't blame me for your shit."

An intense look came into Kurosaki's eyes and Ishida felt a little frightened in spite of himself. When Kurosaki grabbed his face and began to examine it with a worried confusion in his eyes, he answered with no little bemusement of his own. "What the-" Kurosaki trailed off.

"What?" asked Ishida impatiently.

"I know- I _know _you were bleeding like a stuck pig yesterday after Ryuko's car hit you. But I don't see anything today. Do you hurt at all?"

Ishida shook his head and the two looked at each other, completely baffled.


	4. I want your love

AN: Sorry I didn't update yesterday, guys. I meant to, but it was on like Donkey Kong at my school yesterday 'cause of protests and just – needless to say, your truly is a stubborn bitch when she thinks she's right and got thrown into in-school suspension. ^_^"

So this chapter is mostly about Orihime and Chad! They haven't had nearly enough story time. =] Unfortunately they're probably going to continue to not have much time after this... =[

* * *

A few miles out of Karakura, next to a less than safe looking dock, was an abandoned warehouse with the numbers "227" painted on it. Chad checked the card Yoruichi had tossed him and the numbers on the building. "This is it," he said.

Orihime looked at it skeptically. "This isn't cliché at all," she said.

That wasn't to say it wasn't disturbing, especially when the door creaked ominously as it opened. "Hello?" called Chad.

A glint of dim light and a soft sigh answered from a place far back in the shadows. Footsteps other than their own echoed from that same direction. "Come closer," said a voice like the sound of white rapids. It possessed strength, dignity – but more than a little danger.

They moved towards it. A wolf-like face emerged from the darkness, possessing bright silver eyes. "I believe you were looking for me?"

"It depends. Are you Kiyomi?" Orihime asked.

"I am," replied the woman, nodding. "Why are you here?" Orihime looked at Chad hesitantly, twisting at the hem of her shirt.

"We want... we want our powers back," she said quietly. "Yoruichi said you might be able to help us..."

One fierce, contoured eyebrow was raised. "How do you propose I do that?"

"That's why we're here... We don't even know where to start."

She let out a hoarse, throaty chuckle. "I could drag this out, making you recount every event that led up to you 'losing' your powers, but I'm sure you relive them every day, and I'm not stupid enough to waste my time. I can see that you two are human, not shinigami hiding in gigai, and we're fresh out of Quincies, so I can figure out the natures of your powers easily enough. And I can also tell you, easily enough, why you lost them."

Orihime couldn't disguise her eagerness. "Tell me!"

"No. That old saying about teaching a man to fish?"

Orihime sighed. "So it's one of those 'figure it out for yourselves' things?"

Kiyomi laughed again. "You're smarter than you look, kid."

Chad looked down at his arm. He hadn't started this with a sword or spirit bow... Just a few blind punches in midair, trying to protect a defenseless girl. And maybe that was the key to the whole thing. His determination to keep Rukia and that little boy safe – that was where it started. He didn't think he could keep anyone safe now. His fingers wrapped in towards his palm, clenching into a fist. He never _needed _a zanpakutou. Wasn't a Hollow just another soul, in the end? The weapons Ishida and Kurosaki used to fight weren't _physical _objects. They were spiritual. Even though it took on a strange appearance to him, normal people couldn't see the difference between his arm before and after. It was all in his mind. It was after he stopped believing that he could save everyone that he lost all his strength. And Orihime?

The barrettes had broken. Shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. But in the beginning, they were a simple gift from her brother. They had no power... Orihime was the one with the power, and in believing in the love of her brother, the love of her friends, and love itself, they took on a life of their own... But that life came from Orihime. And when everything came crashing down after the war, love seemed a far off notion to everyone. Even Orihime.

Chad looked into Kiyomi's silver eyes. "I know."

She nodded. "I see that. It makes sense to you now, doesn't it? But the question is – _can_ you do what needs to be done?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, you better get sure, because they're coming, and I don't have my zanpakutou right now," she grinned.

A Hollow burst through the wall. It was nothing, the kind of Hollow Chad could have killed with a swat when he was a younger man. A scorpion's tail hunched over its back and a long forked tongue poked from between the teeth of its mask. Chad instinctively raised his arm. He looked at it, remembering the last time he'd used it – the last time he'd failed everyone, and reminded himself that he still had a chance to save them, if only he could bring himself to believe that.

With a loud grunt, he rushed at the Hollow and sank his arm into its mask. The hit was mostly ineffective, but the Hollow did react, shaking its head in confusion. Chad felt a burst of hope and maybe a little pride at the fact that perhaps he _could _get his powers back. The Hollow's tail swung down towards him and he grasped either side of it in his hands. Struggling to hold it back, he took a deep breath. He looked over his shoulder at the defenseless women (though he didn't believe for a minute that Kiyomi didn't have her zanpakutou within reach somewhere) and reached deep within himself. And was surprised at the strength he found there.

He threw the Hollow off and smashed his fist into its mask again. His arm didn't change, but this hit was much more effective than the last, running a deep crack along the gruesome visage. It wasn't anything to write home about, but it was something. He swung again and the mask fell off. He dodged the tail again and while it was stuck in the ground he hit at its head one more time. It let out a screech and keeled over. Chad showed no outward reaction, but he was proud, and Orihime was proud of him, if jealous. And then the Hollow's tail let out one last shudder and impaled him. Orihime's scream was penetrating.

"I am _not_ losing anyone else!" she shrieked, hate twisting her face as she sprinted towards the Hollow, smashing her small fists into its unresponsive tail. Chad looked up at her with fading eyes and she sank to her knees, sobbing. "Don't leave me..."

Chad shook his head. He tried his hardest to speak, couldn't, tried again. "Orihime... don't..."

A large noise came from the other wall – the other Hollows had come. Kiyomi had started to look vaguely nervous but predominantly unconcerned as a rather large one headed straight for her.

Orihime let out another bloodcurdling shriek. "I SAID NO!" she screamed angrily, and much to her surprise and Chad's, the old half-oval barrier glimmered into existence. The wound sealed itself and Orihime gaped. She stared at her own hands in disbelief and a knowing look came into her eyes. She stood up; Chad watched her. He realized that sometimes protecting someone meant letting them stand on their own.

A huge Hollow – a Menos – smashed its way through the roof. As the dust settled, Kiyomi and Chad watched Orihime straighten almost regally and stare at its empty face with no sign of fear. The full moon in the sky was reflected in her dark eyes.

She laughed lightly. "I get it now. Same thing as before – I was always so afraid to believe in myself, wasn't I? And I just realized something. Something I never got before because I was too kind, but I'm more than bitter enough now to understand this. Anger and hate are not only very powerful emotions, but the longer you suckle their evil, greedy little mouths at your breast, the more you look on them as your children. And the easier it is-"

She raised one arm, the hand attached to it limp. With a sudden flash of determination entering her eyes, the hand snapped up into a claw aimed straight at the Menos and a near invisible flash of light that looked precisely liked Tsubaki once had, but much brighter, shot through the Menos' mask.

"To kill."

Kiyomi and Chad barely saw her move, but they saw the rest of the Hollows fall. She had lost none of her reflexes.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," Orihime quoted. Kiyomi laughed loudly, for she liked nothing better than watching a young woman come into her own.

Kurosaki was standing there when Ryuko opened her door. Ishida was right behind him. "Okay, I've seen some weird shit on the streets, nee-san, but I know _damn well_ that someone doesn't get hit by a car and not have any wounds on them the next day."

"Don't ask," said Ryuko, a hard glint coming into her eyes, the kind Kurosaki had learned meant to do what she said. He'd seen more than a few people crushed viciously beneath those stilettos after ignoring that look. "So anyway, you throwing him out on the street or not?" she asked.

"Don't change the subject-"

Ryuko backhanded him with more force than he had ever felt from a woman. His head spun. "You're lucky I like you, Ikari," she shouted at him. "Now, he followed you home – are you keeping him?"

Kurosaki wisely decided to drop the subject. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he shrugged. "I don't know. What would the Oyabun say?"

"Lucky for you, I just talked to him. I can read you like a book, kid. He said he doesn't mind if the puppy has a chew toy," she laughed. "Okay, get the hell in the car. I have shit to do and you two are in the way. Wouldn't want your new toy to get dirty, 'cause some of the shit I have to do... Well. You wouldn't like it if I told you."

Instead of protesting, Kurosaki headed for the car. Ishida hesitantly followed him. He had no idea what to do otherwise, but he did not want to stay here with the brutal woman. Not that he'd be allowed to do anything but what she and Kurosaki said, but it was nice to think he had choices.


End file.
